


G.T.A.

by mylittleredgirl



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Reunion Sex, misuse of government property
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2021-01-13 14:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleredgirl/pseuds/mylittleredgirl
Summary: "Whose car is this?"





	G.T.A.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/gifts).

They should have waited.  
  
He knows that, because he’s an adult, because he’s a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Air Force, because he’s been second-in-command of Earth’s primary stronghold outside the Milky Way for four years, because he’s _responsible_. He’s far from being a teenager, he’s got money for a hotel (somewhere—although he’s been away so long he has no idea how to access it), but he’s busy sticking his hands up his girlfriend’s skirt in the tight confines of someone’s sedan in a vacant lot.  
  
Which reminds him— “Whose car is this?”  
  
Elizabeth’s breath is coming hot and quick against his mouth and she makes an inarticulate sound of annoyance before she finds words: “You haven’t seen me in four weeks—”  
  
“Five,” he corrects, rounding up. Not that he’s counting.  
  
“—_five_ weeks, and that’s the first question you ask me?”  
  
It’s not the first question he asked her. He’s sure he asked her how she is, how it’s going with the new IOA agreement, where she was taking him when she rushed him out of the base as soon as he passed his medical screening, but it’s easy to lose all that in the warm skin of her breast, cupped in his palm. It feels _so good_ just to touch her again. “Well, I need to know if you stole it,” he teases.  
  
She got him hard the minute she pulled over, when she touched him and didn’t say a word before kissing his breath away, but the thought of Elizabeth, _his_ Elizabeth, his sometimes by-the-book sometimes rewrite-the-damn-treaty sometimes are-you-ever-going-to-kiss-me-John Elizabeth that he’s been _missing_ for four and a half weeks... just the thought of her stealing a car and pulling over on a dirt road three miles from the base because she can’t wait to fuck him—  
  
John sucks in a deep, calming breath and looks away, just for a second. They’re not exactly going to have a long and passionate encounter with their limbs knocking against car windows and his knee pushing against the hard plastic seat belt buckle, but he’d like to at least _participate_.  
  
So he thinks,_ all the time in the world_, and he kisses her again. She tastes like she always does, just without the salt air all around them. “Tell me you stole it,” he says, pushing her skirt higher with one hand. His fingers dig into the artificial fabric of her pantyhose, and he wants to rip it off her. It doesn’t belong there.  
  
Her fingers, though, unbuckling his pants, slipping under the waistband—  
  
“Miss me?” she asks, and he can feel the cheeky grin on her lips. He focuses on that, on her warm hands, because he can’t think of the anxious and lonely look in her eyes when they talked through a monitor and 300 million light years. Her fingers are silky smooth, and she smells like the artificial fragrances that trigger a memory of miniature bottles of hotel-brand lotions instead of the Athosian mix of tallow and herbs that he rubs into the scars on her hand when she’s at home. She earned them from an exploding Ancient computer, one of a hundred times she helped save his life.  
  
_Of course I missed you_, he wants to say, but he just kisses her deeper. Her head’s resting against the car door and she can’t be comfortable—neither of them are comfortable—but there’s nothing on this planet that could drag him away.  
  
Elizabeth squirms, knees knocking against him. “This was easier when I was fifteen,” she admits with a laugh he might have missed more than the sex, because it’s been absent far longer. The IOA killed her good mood long before they dragged her back to Earth.  
  
“We’ll find a way.” John tugs her nylons and underwear down over her knees, down to her ankles. He can’t get them off all the way, but he doesn’t need to, because her knees fall as wide as her neatly pressed skirt will let them and his fingers find their way home.  
  
In the dusky light outside he can see her body jolt when he first touches her, and then she breathes out as he slides one finger inside her. She’s wet, and he wants her wetter, wants to stain and tear this dry-clean-only suit that looked so much like a costume when he stepped through the gate. He wants her _back_.  
  
Right now, though, he wants to see that _smile_, that lazy satisfied grin she gets after an orgasm, no matter what they’re doing when she comes (and he’s tried just about everything he can think of—but the sedan’s a new one, because there aren’t many of those where he’s been).  
  
He pushes a second finger in beside the first, feeling it all the way from his gut down through his toes when her muscles tighten and he thinks, _I’m going to make you scream with just my hand_.  
  
Elizabeth is watching him with a wicked grin and she shoves his pants down over his hips, slips her hand into his briefs to wrap tight around his erection and he can almost hear her thought through the jolt of pleasure—_Not if I make you first._  
  
He’s missed this, the playful push and pull between them, the way she knows his body and lets him know hers. She’s shy about their relationship, _still_, hesitant to be too forward in public or to pledge her love out loud in a way that he—surprisingly—really wants to hear, but she has _always_ been this confident with his body, has always lit his nerves on fire like she has some knowledge no other woman has ever touched. He’s thrusting in time with her hand as he twists and curls his fingers inside her. She starts making a sound in her throat with each breath and his memory didn’t at all do this justice while they were three galaxies apart, and he wants to encourage her, _come on, Elizabeth_, but he’s too caught up in the way she feels when she touches him, when he touches her, the way her hotel-lotioned-hand hasn’t changed at all in five weeks and she’s still Elizabeth, she still _wants_ him, and Christ, he wants to _fuck her_.  
  
Their knees are in the way, their bodies improperly positioned for sex in the back of a car, and it’s the _wanting_ that’s making his heart race, it’s the way they’re breathing in unison and the windows are fogging and she’s wearing a suit but she is still looking at him like he’s the only man who’ll ever get to do this to her, who’ll ever touch her like this in a car when anyone could come driving by and see them—  
  
The pressure in his body, in his heart and his groin and his fingers curling up inside her as she tightens around him and breathes a ragged gasping cry that’s only hers and he wants more, wants to be inside her _feeling this_—  
  
He comes with a rush of energy that shudders through his hips, leaves his body and his thoughts temporarily weak.  
  
_Fuck_, he thinks, feeling moisture around his eyes that isn’t entirely sweat. That lazy, beautiful smile crawls across her features, filling them with a familiar joy. He just wants to take her home.  
  
Once upon a time, home was this planet.  
  
“_That’s_ what I needed,” she says. She takes a few deep breaths and arches her back, taking what little stretch the cramped quarters will allow. “And I got it from the motor pool.”  
  
It takes John a second to figure out what she means, and when he does, he looks around at their makeshift love nest. “Landry signed off on this?”  
  
Elizabeth smirks. “Not this _exactly._” She teases him sometimes for losing most of his Mensa rating after sex.  
  
He snuggles his face against her chest. It’s an awkward position for both of them, but he can’t care too much—this is the lowest he’s let his guard since she left, and it feels good.  
  
“How long?” he asks. He wasn’t willing to ask it back at the base.  
  
“A month. Hopefully less. Not that they’ll hurry on our account, but they’ve got Earthbound deadlines to meet.”  
  
A month. He can do that. “I go back to Atlantis the day after tomorrow.”  
  
“I know. I arranged your visit, remember?”  
  
She didn’t arrange it for sex in a car, specifically, but he’s grateful that she doesn’t talk business just yet. In a few minutes, the vagaries of IOA policy will become the most important thing for both of them, but right now, this is their little bubble of Pegasus here on what now feels like foreign soil.  
  
“I hope you arranged for a bed as well as a car,” he says, and kisses her before idly fussing with her clothes, not quite returning them to their proper alignment.  
  
“I did, but you know how things get. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity. You never know when—” She smiles. “Well, I suppose Rodney sounding an emergency alarm here is less likely.”  
  
John chuckles. “I’ve asked him to keep a few experiments on hold until you get back, just so you can experience the unexpected disasters along with the rest of us.”  
  
She kisses him, full and sweet and like she knows exactly what he means. Like she’s coming back, _soon._  
  
“We should get back to the base,” she advises, scooting up to sitting and starting to pull up her tights.  
  
“Okay, but I’m driving.”  
  
She looks amused. “Miss driving something without ATA technology?”  
  
Yes, actually, but: “Maybe I just want to find another spot to park.”  
  
Elizabeth grins. “Well then,” she says, “She’s all yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sparktober 2011: "Backseat of someone's car."


End file.
